


Third Time's The Charm

by DesertVixen



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: F/M, Family Feels, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 03:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11455119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesertVixen/pseuds/DesertVixen
Summary: Three times Ivan visited the gazebo during the Emperor's Birthday...





	Third Time's The Charm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [james](https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/gifts).



He had to get away from everyone.

It had been one thing to shepherd Miles’ clone around Vorbarr Sultana – Ivan was not one of the people who could resist his aunt Cordelia when she was in a persuasive mood. He had almost found himself sympathizing with Mark’s plight – being dropped into Vorkosigan House was not for the faint of heart. 

It had also kept him from thinking too much – at first, about Miles and the possibility that he might never hear that voice cajoling him, might never see his sawed-off cousin doing the impossible. The news that the cryo-chamber had been found – empty – and that Miles was seriously missing in action had added to that. Lastly the weight of the situation with his uncle Aral had been added, the sick feeling that he might lose two of the most important people in his life at once. 

Watching Miles’ clone – Mark, Ivan told himself, his name is Mark – go up to present the Vorkosigan District’s yearly offering, to kneel before Gregor as the rest of the Vor stood by and commented on his aunt’s tactics – that had been too much. Too much to deal with sober.

So he had appropriated a bottle of brandy and gone to hide in the gazebo where he desperately hoped no one would find him until he was too hungover to care. The tears hadn’t been part of the plan, but they came along with the brandy, and thoughts of an empty cryo-chamber. 

Mark’s tentative voice outside the gazebo had him pressing his hands to his eyes and breathing deeply. He could tell the little clone to get lost, tell him to go away – hoping that the clearly unfriendly tone of his voice would be enough of a clue. But at the last minute, Ivan couldn’t do it. God knew, he had every reason to dislike Mark, but he suddenly had the image in his mind of Miles taking Mark everywhere, exercising every inch of his mother’s charm and his father’s charisma – all bound up in what made Miles who he was – and he knew that Miles would have expected more from him.

So he offered him a drink. 

Misery and company did seem to go well together.

***

Ivan wondered if he was getting old. He hadn’t been driven out to the gazebo during the Emperor’s birthday celebration for a few years – not since that miserable season when Miles had been frozen. 

Things had certainly changed since then, he reflected as he strolled along the path. His mother was no longer thrusting every available Vor bud into his path – although it had not escaped his notice that there were less and less of them. Instead she was dancing with Simon Illyan, another development Ivan had not seen coming.

It was also the first year that Crown Prince Simon Vorbarra had been brought down to the Emperor’s birthday celebration. The boy was not four years old yet, but he’d sat on a camp stool next to his father for an hour as Counts and their heirs presented their tributes. 

The Viceroy and Vicereine of Sergyar had come to Barrayar for the celebration, and Ivan thought he would never forget the image of the Viceroy and Lord Vorkosigan presenting the Vorkosigan District’s tribute to the Emperor. Barrayar’s past, present, and future, standing together, Ivan mused. He’d played a small role in some of those events, but no one was happier than Ivan to be out of the spotlight. 

Not that he really expected to stay out of the spotlight, but he could at least dream about it.

A shuffling sound warned Ivan that the gazebo already had a tenant. He had planned simply to keep walking, until the person in the gazebo called out his name, in a deep voice he’d know anywhere.

The Viceroy of Sergyar. The Butcher of Komarr. Admiral Viceroy Count Aral Vorkosigan, Former Regent and Prime Minister of Barrayar, the eleventh of his name. 

Uncle Aral, to Ivan.

Ivan did shoot a cautious glance around the gazebo, but Aral seemed to be alone. “Not at the party, sir?”

Aral Vorkosigan shook his head. “I’ve done my part for the evening, but Cordelia is still charming some members of the Imperial University’s faculty, trying to get more support for Sergyar.”

A comfortable silence stretched between them. Ivan considered it one of the signs that he had achieved adulthood that one of his uncle’s silences didn’t prompt him to start spilling his guts about any transgressions, real or imagined.

“Your father and I used to come out here during some of the official balls,” Aral rumbled after a moment, a smile playing about his lips. “Even once or twice during the Emperor’s Birthday.”

Ivan remembered what he’d told Mark about getting drunk being a traditional challenge. He had heard some of the stories about Aral Vorkosigan’s younger days.

“You’re very like him, you know.” Aral was looking at Ivan, but Ivan had the feeling that it wasn’t really him the older man was seeing. “Both of you are very dependable men.”

Ivan had seen pictures of his father as a young man – a young man who’d never had the chance to grow old – and knew his uncle spoke the truth about their physical likeness. It was something else entirely to have Aral Vorkosigan describe him as “dependable”. It made Ivan feel warm inside, even better than the few drinks he’d had earlier in the evening. Aral Vorkosigan’s “dependable” was worth ten flowery compliments from anyone else.

They sat out there for more than an hour, with Aral telling him about the Padma Vorpatril he had known, until Cordelia came looking for him.

Ivan never forgot it.

*** 

Ivan had managed to avoid the Emperor’s birthday for the last three years. The last one had been the first one following Aral Vorkosigan's state funeral, and that had been painful, full of memories that were heavier than the coffin he'd helped carry at Vorkosigan Surleau. There was something to be said for a job that kept him off-planet for long periods of time, but there had been no avoiding it this year. 

Ivan had watched Miles present the Vorkosigans’ offering, watched him kneel before the Emperor as the twelfth Count, and wondered if Miles coped with his new responsibilities by approaching it like he had all his other roles. How much this party had changed over the last twenty-five years, Ivan thought as he watched his wife glide slowly through the crowd in his direction, although not all of the changes had been bad. 

“Had enough of the party?” Tej inquired as she slid her arm through his. “You have a strange look on your face, Ivan Xav.”

“Just thinking and remembering.”

“How much longer do you think we need to stay?” She smiled at him. “Duty is duty, but surely we’ve put in enough of an appearance.”

“True,” Ivan agreed. “How about a stroll through the gardens?

She took a pair of champagne glasses from a passing manservant. “That sounds lovely.”

They passed a few people in the garden, but no one paid any real attention to the couple. Ivan didn’t realize it was the path that led to the gazebo until they were in sight of the little stone building. It was funny that his feet should bring him here when his mind was preoccupied. For once, the gazebo was empty, and he guided Tej inside. 

“Favorite place of yours?” Tej inquired.

Ivan nodded. “I’ve been in here a time or two.” Memories of the past swirled around him for a moment, and he found himself recalling a story Aral Vorkosigan had shared with him about his father, when Padma Vorpatril had managed to complete both of the traditional dares with a young Vor widow who’d contemplated becoming a lady for her second act. 

Tej was studying him in the dark. “Happy memories, I hope?”

“Some,” Ivan said as he took her champagne glass, set it on a ledge next to his. “You know, there is a pair of traditional dares associated with the Emperor’s birthday. I’ve only managed to knock one off my list.”

“Oh?” Tej smiled at him.

“One is getting heroically drunk. The other…requires a partner.”

Tej gave him her best innocent look. “We didn’t bring enough to drink, Ivan Xav.”

He took her in his arms, and gave her a long kiss. “I’ve already done that one.”

She gave him a wicked smile. “By all means then, let me help you cross the other one off your list. It would be my pleasure.”

“As always, my lady.”

He was going to rather enjoy making some more memories in this gazebo.

**Author's Note:**

> So I hope you liked it! I do enjoy giving Ivan some good moments.
> 
> Notes:  
> 1\. The first scene happens _during Mirror Dance_.  
>  2\. The second scene is set between the events of _Diplomatic Immunity_ and _Captain Vorpatril's Alliance_.  
>  3\. The final scene is set 3-4 years after the events of _Cryoburn_.  
>  4\. I couldn't find the right reference I was looking for, but I seem to remember Gregor's birthday is in the fall.


End file.
